


it's like i'm powerful (with a little bit of tender)

by useyernamesteven



Series: The Cat and the Canary [1]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: 'cops and robbers' kinda, Alternate Universe - No Time Travel, Detective Ava Sharpe, F/F, I blame Janelle Monae, Vigilante Sara, fluff mostly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-14 19:18:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14142801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/useyernamesteven/pseuds/useyernamesteven
Summary: She’s ready for a nap.After a long day at the precinct with Chief Bennett breathing down her neck and Gary spilling her coffee twice, all Ava wants to do is take off her bra, curl up with her cat, and sleep the rest of this annoying day away. But as she enters her apartment and hears too loud music coming from her kitchen, she knows that the day’s annoyances have only begun.(Or, Ava's a cop and Sara's a vigilante who breaks into her apartment to make pancakes)





	it's like i'm powerful (with a little bit of tender)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not really sure where this came from or why I'm even posting it but, the hell right? I'm thinking of maybe writing another piece or two for this series, but who knows. Anyways, enjoy!

She’s ready for a nap.

After a long day at the precinct with Chief Bennett breathing down her neck and Gary spilling her coffee _twice_ , all Ava wants to do is take off her bra, curl up with her cat, and sleep the rest of this annoying day away. But as she enters her apartment and hears too loud music coming from her kitchen, she knows that the day’s annoyances have only begun.

The Missus comes bounding into the room to greet her at the door and rub up against her legs, yowling as she lectures Ava for being gone so long. She smiles down at The Missus, reaching to scratch behind her ear before toeing off her boots. She unholsters her gun, checking the safety again and removing the cartridge. She sets both into the safe by the door and tosses her keys onto the coffee table.

Finally, with a deep breath and a secular plea for just a little more patience, she trudges toward the sound of the obnoxious noise.

Ava realizes she hadn’t asked for nearly enough patience because the sight that greets her when she enters the kitchen is certainly migraine inducing. The music is blasting through her Bluetooth speakers at an ungodly level and every inch of the counter space is covered in a fine layer of flour. There are egg shells in the sink, batter all over the stove, and the culprit to the disaster her kitchen has succumbed to is currently singing into the spatula like a microphone.

The beautiful bane of her existence. The rosery thorn in her side of the past three years. The number one reason Ava buys so much Advil. The one and only Canary.

As odd as it may seem to have the nightly crusader casually making breakfast for dinner in her kitchen, Ava can’t say she’s really surprised. It certainly isn’t the first time the Canary has broken into her apartment and she has long since acquiesced to the knowledge that it probably won’t be the last.

But despite the intrusion and disastrous state of her kitchen, Ava can’t help a small smile at the sight because the woman looks downright ridiculous. She’s still wearing her mask and eye makeup, but she’s stripped herself of the rest of her getup and has adorned one of Ava’s button ups (thankfully not the one she had ironed out last night). There’s a fine dusting of flour in her hair and her left cheek is smudged with drying batter. To top it off she’s singing at the top of her lungs as she flips smiley face pancakes, either oblivious to Ava’s presence or purposefully ignoring it.

The Canary reaches over to skip to the next song and Janelle Monáe’s _Make Me Feel_ begins to filter through the speakers. Ava feels sudden heat erupt across her cheeks as the Canary begins to swivel her hips to tempo, slow and sinful. It doesn’t help that she’s _only_ wearing Ava’s shirt, which rides up with every swing and sway, teasing her with well-toned thighs and the barest glimpse of her ass. She’s left to wonder if the other woman is in fact wearing anything underneath the shirt and her imagination runs with the temptation, just a little.

She’s so caught up in the mesmerizing rhythm that she’s almost too distracted to catch the playful wink the Canary shoots her way over her shoulder. Of course. Of course she knew Ava was there and watching her. Of course she’d pick such a dirty playlist to dance to, to tease to, because that’s just what she does best; she teases and taunts and toes the line Ava has drawn in the dirt so many times that it’s practically a trench by now.

And it pisses Ava off to no end.

But it’s not like… she’s not mad that the Canary won’t let her _have_ her, so to speak, because she’s made it explicitly clear (on multiple occasions) that if Ava ever wanted to they could be having the most _“mind blowing sex that’ll rock your fucking socks off, Kitty-Cat!”_ (Insert Canary’s exaggerated wink.) (Insert Ava’s exaggerated eye roll.)

But that’s not the problem.

No see, the thing that pisses her off, more than anything else, is that Ava’s _not supposed_ to want her. She’s a **_vigilante_** for fucks sake! A vigilante who consistently and constantly breaks the law. The law that Ava, as a Star City homicide detective, strives to uphold because that’s her job, which is only made that much more difficult with people like the Green Arrow, or Speedy, or the Canary running around playing “hero”.

The woman infuriates her because she’s crass and reckless and has zero respect for personal space. And she _knows_ the Canary knows how much Ava wants to wring out her neck everytime she messes with an investigation or a patrol or anything that’ll screw up all of Ava’s hard-work. And she’s sure that the woman gets a kick out of all of it. She knows just how to drive Ava up a wall and get her so tightly wound up that she basically has no idea how to relax anymore!

And all Ava wants to do, more than anything else, is shove the Canary up against that same wall and keep her pinned there until she’s left begging against Ava’s neck for sweet release. Ava’s supposed to want to see her behind bars, not writhing beneath her until her back bows off the mattress and the noise of the city gets drowned out by the cry of her pleasured screams.

Hence, the dilemma.

_Fuck_. Now she needs a nap _and_ a cold shower.

By now the Canary has turned away from the stove, spatula forgotten on the countertop, and she’s begun singing to Ava, low and sultry, inching forward with every delicious pop of her hips. Her masked baby blue eyes stare at her, into her, with an almost feral gleam that makes Ava think of a cat delighting in watching its prey’s fruitless attempts to escape.

She also gets the distinct feeling that she isn’t the cat in this case.

Her traitorous eyes watch as the Canary’s hands run teasingly up her torso, skimming her breasts and pressing against her neck before she slowly rubs them back down the length of her body. She casts Ava a small wink before she dips and dances her fingers up her thighs, giving the detective ample view down her shirt.

Well that certainly answers half the question of whether the Canary was wearing anything underneath her shirt—and if she turned around Ava’s sure she’d have the other half answered as well.

A voice in Ava’s head scolds her for thinking that. Another voice whispers from somewhere below Ava’s belt that it doesn’t care.

With a crafty hair flip the Canary straightens again, only much closer than before. So close in fact, that if Ava didn’t have her fists buried deep in the pockets of her jeans she might be tempted to curl her hands against those swaying hips and finally put a stop to their torturous routine.

The Canary, oblivious to Ava’s internal struggles—but probably not and most likely reveling in her pain—bites her carefully painted bottom lip and tangles one hand into fake platinum locks. The other tugs against the shirt and one of the buttons pops undone, showing off even more skin.

Ava has to dig down deep, _waaay_ deep into her reserves for any scrap of the anger she’s supposed to feel for this woman. But even that is miniscule and fleeting and useless.

The song ends but the tension doesn’t ease. Their practically nose to nose with the way Ava’s slumped against the doorway, staring down into dangerous blue eyes; eyes that are staring right back up at her with a want. With a _dare_.

It’s the game they play. Or really, the game the Canary created and made Ava it’s unwilling participant; the ‘how much can Detective Ava Sharpe handle before she takes the bait and loses’ game.

Will this be the time she gives up and gives in? Will the _canary_ finally catch the _cat?_

…

“You’re burning something.”

(Apparently not today.)

The Canary steps away with a small pout, turning back to the now smoking stove and pulling the pan from the burner. She frowns at the blackened batter before scraping the mess into the trash with a shrug.

Ava heaves a quiet sigh of relief at the danger having passed (and she’s not really talking about the pancake). Instead she finds her focus and the day’s annoyances catch back up to her in time to level the Canary with a glare when she turns back around. “Care to tell me why you’re in my apartment?”

The Canary smirks. “Oh baby, don’t pretend like you’re not thrilled to see me.

“I’m not,” Ava says, a tad too quick and the Canary’s smirk grows. Ava clears her throat and crosses her arms. “In fact, I should be arresting you for breaking and entering. _Again_.” The smirk turns into a wicked grin and Ava’s jaw tightens.

“Ooo, if we’re using the handcuffs tonight will you blindfold me too? Please, baby, I’ve just been such a _naughty girl!_ ” the Canary whines out, closing her eyes and letting out an exaggerated moan.

If Ava hadn’t been so used to this coming from the Canary, she’s sure she would have been blushing from head to toe. But, as such, she doesn’t even bat an eye because, again, this is what the Canary does. She plays around just to get a rise out of her, to see how much it takes to make her buckle, but Ava’s determined not to give in ( ~~yet~~ ).

Instead she pinches the bridge of her nose to alleviate the growing pressure behind her eyes and sighs. “I’m just going to ignore all of that and ask again: why are you in my apartment and destroying my kitchen?”

“I’m being domestic and cooking for my wonderful, working wifu!” the Canary says, twirling back to the stove to pour more batter into the pan and somehow managing to add more to the counter instead.

Ava groans. Awesome. Now she needs a nap, a cold shower, and a _drink_.

The Missus trots into the room, meowing up at Ava once before moving on to the Canary and purring loudly as she rubs up against bare calves. The Canary coos softly and picks The Missus up, scratching her under her chin and earning a few kitty licks in return. “Maybe I also wanted to check up on my precious little angel since you’ve been working too much lately. You clearly haven’t been giving her enough snuggles and who am I to ignore a woman’s wants?”

Ava snorts. “You seem to have no trouble ignoring _me_ when I tell you to stop breaking the law-”

“I said wants, not orders from the ‘fun police’. Your argument is invalid Kitty-Cat.”

Ava sighs, moving toward the fridge for a drink and leaning over as she passes the Canary to whisper to the purring creature in her arms, “Traitor.”

“Aw, babe! Don’t be mad our daughter loves me more than you. She just missed her Mama,” the Canary says, kissing the top of The Missus’s head.

Ava makes a noncommittal noise as she pulls out the OJ and swipes the bowl of freshly cut strawberries from the top shelf. She pops a strawberry into her mouth and pulls two glasses from the cabinet, pouring them each a drink. When she goes to reach for another strawberry her hand gets slapped away and the Canary glares at her. “Don’t you dare spoil your dinner. I slaved away on this for hours!”

Ava raises an eyebrow. “You’re burning another pancake.”

“Shit!”

Eventually they find themselves curled up on Ava’s couch with their breakfast-dinners balanced on their knees and The Missus squished between them. They’re watching “One Day at a Time” on Netflix (it was Ava’s turn to pick the series and she’d heard good things about it from Officer Tomaz) and while Schneider and Penelope are having they’re heart to heart about depression and addiction on screen, Ava suddenly notices the Canary has grown quiet, mindlessly pushing her eggs around her plate and staring off at nothing, her face stony.

There’s something bothering her but knowing the Canary she won’t say unless Ava asks, so she mutes the show and waits for the Canary to refocus and look at her. And when she does Ava feels her chest tighten.

Her face gives nothing away, her jaw clenched and mouth set in a hard line, but her eyes belay the storm inside her. There’s a heaviness to them, but more than just a tired look; like some kind of burden buried in her normally fierce blue gaze and Ava feels suddenly unbalanced.

It’s been a while since she’s seen the Canary with her guard down. The last time had been when the woman had gotten drunk, broken into her apartment, and then fell apart in Ava’s arms; screaming for a sister who had been taken away from her far too soon.

Ava had held her as she cried herself to sleep and then carried her to her bedroom, only to be greeted by empty sheets the next time she opened her eyes; the masked woman long gone from her side and taking her warmth with her.

But that had been months ago and they’ve since fallen back into their respective roles, with their easy banter and walled hearts, pretending like the night had never happened at all.

Only now it feels like they’ve dropped the pretense of ‘cops-and-robbers’ and are back to being something that Ava’s started to secretly wonder could potentially be considered “friends”. They still don’t fully trust one another—probably the main reason why the Canary hasn’t dropped her mask yet—but they’ve certainly come a long way from when Ava was swearing she’d be the one to put the vigilante in jail if it was the last thing she ever did.

They help one another. They’ve seen each other at their worst. And they’re still here.

Maybe not friends. But definitely… _something_.

So now here they sit, shoulders pressed together, a cat nestled between their hips, and the Canary looks pained, or worried, or some other word that just isn’t going to do the woman justice. And Ava’s hit with this sudden urge to reach out and pull her in again, to provide some kind of comfort for this woman who has taken up an annoyingly large portion of her life. And she’s so sick of all this ‘shouldn’t’, and ‘can’t’, and all the reasons why she ‘won’t’.

She just wants to do _something._

But instead she smiles, soft and sincere, and asks, “What’s troubling you Birdie?”

It’s not much but it’s enough. Enough to pull a small smile from the Canary and for a moment, the storm disappears from her eyes and they’re back to that brilliant baby blue. But, almost just as fast, the light shifts and the darkness returns, bearing a slice of fear beneath it.

“I think,” she starts and then stops. She reaches over to grab Ava’s plate before she sets both of them down and surprises Ava by grabbing her hand. She looks just as surprised by the gesture as Ava feels but with a shake of her head she tries again. “I think something bad is going to happen soon.”

Ava frowns. “What do you mean bad?”

“I mean like _bad_ bad,” she answers, not meeting Ava’s curious gaze. “There are… rumors. Whispers that—that _Mallus_ is planning something big.”

Ava’s entire being runs rigid. Mallus is the name of the mysterious, mostly underground crime boss that has been running his operations from behind the scenes while his lackeys like Damien Darhk and Grodd run around doing his every bidding. Ava’s spent more than a few sleepless nights and far too much overtime trying to break apart his operations, having taken up the mission her previous partner, Rip Hunter, started what feels like a lifetime ago.

Hearing that Mallus might finally be making an appearance both worries and drives Ava. This might be the break the Precinct needs to take down the crime lord, but what would the damage be if they failed? She’s not willing to risk anymore of her fellow officers to this man… not after what happened last time.

Ava shakes her head and clears her throat, pulling herself from her thoughts before they can drift too far down that road again. “Do you know when by chance?”

The Canary shakes her head defeatedly, the muscles in her jaw jumping with frustration. “There are only rumors so far, but still. I’ve noticed the usual hotspots are getting quiet and I just… my gut says somethings coming.” She sighs, hands mindlessly toying with Ava’s fingers with a nervous energy. Ava tries not shiver at the light tracings and focus on the Canary’s words. “I just wanted to let you know so you can, I don’t know, double up on patrols or something.”

It’s said almost carelessly, like an afterthought to everything else, but Ava recognizes the sentiment beneath the suggestion. The Canary knows the gruesome story about Mallus killing all those officers less than a year ago and, more importantly, she knows that Ava feels partly responsible for their deaths. Ava would have driven herself to insanity and quite possibly succumbed to some very dark thoughts if it weren’t for the Canary.

This warning is more than just a heads up for what’s to come. The Canary is actively telling Ava to prepare her people and herself for the fight that’s rising on the horizon so Ava doesn’t have to be burdened by another officer’s death because of this man. So she doesn’t have to witness Ava drifting back down that terribly dark path again.

Despite the graveness of the situation Ava finds her lips pulling into a half smile as the Canary glances up from fiddling with her hand to look at her. “Thank you,” she says, softly but with enough force that she hopes the Canary understands that she truly means it. “I’ll let Bennett know to pair up the patrols and convince him to keep the rookies out of the Industrial District.”

The Canary nods and drops her hand. Ava tries not to miss the contact.

“You just make sure to watch your back, yeah?” The Canary smirks. “It’d be too much work to find a new cop to harass.” She says it with a mirth that leeches into her gaze and Ava smiles as the worry disappears from her eyes.

She bumps her shoulder against the Canary’s, pulling an easy grin from the woman and the tightness in her chest begins to loosen. “Watch it Birdie. You’re not supposed to be here, remember?”

The Canary rolls her eyes and scoffs, scratching The Missus beneath her chin when she jumps into her lap with a loud purr. She reclines back, throwing her legs over Ava’s lap, and pokes her side with her toes. “Oh admit it, Kitty-Cat. You’d miss me.”

“Never.”


End file.
